


Through the Eyes Of A Toad

by smallprotector



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Grantaire, Gen, Grantaire is so thirsty, Poor Enjolras, Ugly Enjolras, Worried Joly, ranting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallprotector/pseuds/smallprotector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is not attractive, pretty or handsome. Grantaire disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Eyes Of A Toad

Enjolras had never been handsome, pretty, beautiful or cute. As a child, his mother's friends had sometimes tried to compliment during inevitably boring “high society” gatherings, but inevitably it would be with phrases such as “my, he has such vivid eyes” (ignoring the way they bugged out slightly in an unattractive fashion) or “why, doesn't he look like a little prince in that outfit” (which Enjolras grew to hate as soon as he understood the monarchist undertones to the statement, not to mention how uncomfortable the sailor costumes he was forced into were). 

And as he grew older, even that damningly faint praise grew less and less common and all he ever heard from anyone was comments about how much he'd grown. He tried not to let it bother him that girls (and some boys) in school would shyly voice their appreciation of Combeferre's regal features and beautiful eyes, or Courfeyrac's well-groomed curls and dashing smiles. But he did notice how different he was to his two best friends, both of whom were devastatingly handsome in their own way. He sometimes couldn't help but notice just how lacking his looks were in comparison and by the time he got to university and had founded his own activist group Les Amis, he had made peace with the fact that he would simply never be truly attractive. 

So when Grantaire started coming to meetings, Enjoras was very confused.

The first time Grantaire stepped into the Musain during a meeting of Les Amis, he could not take his eyes from the divine apparition that was speaking. Blond curls which seemed to be lit with Heaven's light, eyes that were blazing with fury, a clear and loud voice- to Grantaire, it seemed as if and angel- no, a god- had flew to this humble bar. So Grantaire sat and listened to what he would have sworn was none other than the god Apollo while cursing himself for not having brought his sketchbook. But after a while of sitting in a daze, the words the vision was saying started to register. “Absolute equal rights”? “Need for immediate action”? Shit. Apollo was an activist- and it sounded like he even believe what he was saying would make a difference. But even if he was nattering on about ridiculous things, Grantaire decided that he had to stay- after all, one did not often come across gods. 

So he stayed staring at the vision of perfection for what seemed both an eternity and far too short a time before the man stopped speaking the others in the bar started chatting with each other. And when Grantaire managed to tear his eyes away from the leader, he saw some familiar faces from the corner of his eye and made his way over to Bossuet and Joly, who were chatting quite animatedly with some others he didn't recognise. 

“Grantaire! What are you doing here?” Bossuet said as he spotted him.

“It's a bar, what do you expect? Anyway, I was passing by and saw this charming little watering-hole and found my throat altogether parched before coming in and finding a god planning a revolution. And then I knew I must stay, for who knows when one will ever see Apollo descended from Olympus again? But has no one told him that this world is old and hideous, full of beast of prey, full of eagles (and not all are as kind as you, Bossuet). Why this very morning I met a beautiful girl whom I had once know (though not in the biblical sense, regrettably) and she so happily proclaimed to me her change in fortune. Not for her the drudgery of hard labour, no, she has taken up with a banker and will be amply provided for while her good looks hold- though she is, of course, not even comparable to the leader here, whose radiance no mere mortal can ever hope to outshine- and I could not help but think that our world has become worse, with women who could live by virtuous hard work will gladly become a doxy for the promise of money. The world is like a bad oyster, and I cannot help but dread each day as I would eating an oyster of indeterminable age and origin, for each is just as likely to be foul and make me sick. But I suppose from the lofty heights of Olympus such details are blurred and one can ignore the retching of those who have consumed a bad oyster or endured a bad day.”

“Grantaire, my dear friend, who on earth are you talking about? There is no Apollo here. How much have you had to drink? Are you experiencing other symptoms?” Joly asked.

“No, Joly, I am in perfect health, though I can't help but wonder about your eyesight...” Grantaire said, and as Joly started to look terrified, Bossuet calmed him down, glaring at Grantaire.

“There is no Apollo here tonight, I do believe Grantaire has overindulged, as he does often. You don't need to worry Joly.” 

“But then who do you think was leading this meeting? Did you not see?”

“Enjoras, of course. We do all know him. But we would never call him a god, why be so cruel?”

“I don't understand what on earth you mean. How could that possibly be cruel?”

As the three of them had been speaking, none of them noticed Enjolras glancing towards his two friends and comrades-in-arms and, spying an unfamiliar face, striding off to speak with the newcomer. As he approached, he noted with approval how emphatically the man was gesturing, and hoped that he would meet another revolutionary as fervent with the need for change as he himself had become.

“And now the beautiful god himself graces us with his presence! Welcome, Apollo, to the table of a humble worshipper!”

What in the world was going on? Had this- this- drunkard come here only to mock Enjolras and to make light of his cause while reminding him of his lacking appearance? Was he damaged in some way, touched in the head? Or was he perhaps a spy sent to sow dissension in their ranks? Regardless, Enjolras did not take kindly to being made fun of. He would put a stop to this.

“I have no need for self-styled 'worshippers' too drunk to be of any use to our cause, too inebriated to conduct themselves with the decorum Revolution and Patria demand. If you cannot be of any worth to us, then get out!” Enjolras said, “Joly, Bossuet, come over to discuss our plans in the back room when you are done cavorting with- whoever this is.” before turning and striding back to the table, back straight as a spear. 

Grantaire watched him go, before turning to his two friends who looked shell-shocked and saying “I didn't mean it like that, you know I didn't! He- he doesn't even know me! I've barely had any wine today- well, not enough to truly- look, is it my fault his beauty renders me insensible, liable to spew nonsense towards anyone who will listen?”

“I might believe that, if you didn't keep referring to his looks as you do. I know you generally mean no harm Grantaire, but this- this is just not justified. I mean, everybody knows Enjolras is- well, not much of a beauty-”

“Not much of a beauty! Have you taken leave of your senses, Bossuet? That hair, like gold spun by gods and given the sun's own light. That mouth, with lips so sensuous they would tempt the most prudish person- yet so disapproving they can shatter a heart. The nose, sculpted from marble by loving fingers, straight and true as his beliefs. The skin itself, radiant as is imbued with magic no mere mortal could begin to understand. And the eyes- so fierce, so piercing, so-”

“Bossuet, what if he is contagious?! I must check my pulse. Here, hold my pocket-watch. Do I have any discolourations?”

“No, Jolllly, be jolly and don't worry, you are fine. So long as you don't start swilling wine or other alcohols, you won't get what he has- he just needs to sleep it off. But I think he truly does believe what he's saying!”

“I know, that's why I'm so disturbed,” Joly said looking at Grantaire, who had yet to stop talking about their fearless leader in a way which made him quite uncomfortable. Even though it was quite astounding how much Grantaire had noticed in such a short time. He himself had never looked too closely at how Enjolras' trousers fit him- but Grantaire seemed ready to write epics on the subject.

**Author's Note:**

> That speech Grantaire makes about the girl and the world being a crappy oyster is from the book. I changed it, but yeah...
> 
> Oh, come hit me up on tumblr at wanttodrawmothsfrommemory.tumblr.com :D It'll be fun!


End file.
